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Catalog of New Years Eves

15. The spare bedroom in Grandma’s condo. Hiding between the hide-away bed and the dresser with a big plastic phone to my ear. Whispering Happy New Year and I love you and I miss you to my boyfriend. Whispering because its too late to be on the phone but not too late for Grandma to be watching Dick Clark and knitting in the living room.

16. Boyfriendless, went to some downtown Atlanta street fair with brother, sister, and Chris. The annual opportunity came and went, some snuggling, no kissing.

17. Jumping on a backyard trampoline with my best friend. Everybody else was in the house where its warm. We did flips when we heard the cheer. This will be our Senior year. We resolve to kiss more boys this year.

18. Times Square with all the trimmings. Our hair is dyed red. We stood for hours mashed up against some guys from Jersey, taking turns to sneak off to Sbarro to pee. Did some kissing.

19. Set off a paper bagful of fireworks on the tailgate of a pickup in a suburban cul de sac. Leaned halfway out the door of the living room onto the porch to watch. New Years Rockin Eve was on, as always.

20. Apartment complex holiday. Roomates bounded from one landing to another, drinking and drunk. I set my alarm clock for 12:30 in protest and went to bed early.

21. At a Cramps concert in Atlanta. Wore a velvet dress for the first time that had lived in my closet for a year. Held my breath at midnight, and the lights stayed on.

22. At a loft in Williamsburg with a roommate's roomate. Snowing, miserable, tingling, standing on the pavement. Momus performed. The year ahead was daunting.

23. Just remembered this one. It was one of those fragile suburbs- concrete and stucco. The guests struck me as moms and dads on their off-weekend of custody. Somebody drank our champagne. Whatever, we trilled, on helium, We're getting married.

24. Happy Mrs and Mister, we attended the office party in Times Square. Flung reams of paper and videotape stock out the windows onto the flickering crowd until sniper teams on the opposite highrise beamed their flashlights in our faces.

25. On a rooftop, I think, with our friends. We watched DVDs and fought to stay awake. Was it “Sea Biscuit”? There were fireworks over Underground Atlanta. You couldn’t pay me to be there, we said.

26. In a neighbor’s backyard with one of those firepits on feet, we toasted with sparkling grape juice. There were gunshots at midnight, from every direction. Someone, now divorced, got online and delivered the statistics of those killed each year by celebratory gunfire.

27. Even in a cabin, in the mountains, miles from even a WalMart. Even here, with a hot tub and sling shot and 3 dachsunds it takes a joint and a bottle of Prosecco and MTV to make us giggle. For some reason, we saw fireworks at 11pm. At midnight, there was some pointless kissing between the straight couples.


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